


Creation

by sunaddicted



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Confusing, Guilt, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Sad, What Was I Thinking?, Why?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:02:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4173942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunaddicted/pseuds/sunaddicted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So maybe next time when you cast your stones<br/>From the shadows of the dark unknown<br/>You will crawl up from your hiding place<br/>Take a look in the mirror<br/>See the truth in your face"<br/>In This Moment, Whore</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creation

_Creation_

The Maia always woke up slowly, blinking a couple of times to bring the world into focus and adjust to the darkness cloaking the bedroom, slowly breathing in the icy-cold air and cautiously testing his body’s readiness with tiny movements, mindful of not jostling the scalding-hot presence slumped next to him: unsurprisingly enough – Melkor? Master? – the Vala wasn’t a heavy sleeper, the likely result of too many people after his life and an innate distrust in everything potentially dangerous.

He enjoyed those precious moments during which his mind was peacefully blank, when it wasn’t trying to tear itself apart in the vain struggle to choose who the Maia was – Mairon? Sauron? It was an endless battle, the one between the two halves of his self that stubbornly refused to coexist: nothing like a compromise seemed to be possible between ‘the Admirable’ and ‘the Abhorred’, both of them too stubborn and proud to yield to the other.

The Maia quietly got up, careful of not ending up tangled in the smooth sheets pooling at his waist, and walked to the huge mirror hanging from the raw stone: looking at his own reflection helped to understand who commandeered his brain for the day; cocking his head to one side, crimson hair shadowing part of his face like a bloodied veil, the Maia let his burning gaze travel along the pale and lithe figure.

It always surprised him how – despite looking identical – Mairon could turn that body into a shy and pretty doll, whereas Sauron managed to appear a seductive fiend; they carried themselves so differently that anybody who had known the Maia for some time could easily tell with whom they were talking and behaved accordingly – it unnerved the Maia, who struggled to tell the two apart. With a distressed huff, he turned his back to the mirror.

Sauron smirked cruelly “Grow a backbone” he criticized, voice freezing and unforgiving.

Mairon sighed “Grow a heart” he retaliated tiredly.

“What for?” the former asked, vaguely amused by his nemesis’ foolish suggestion: he didn’t need a heart to become more powerful.

“Are you talking to yourself, my dear?” The Vala inquired worriedly, roughly rubbing the sleep off of his face.

The Maia fiery-red eyes snapped up at him “N-no” He firmly shook his head to emphasize the quivering answer, teeth worrying his lower lip. Absentmindedly, he noted that it must have been Mairon to be in control: Sauron would have never stuttered so weakly and acted so nervous. He licked his mouth to soothe the self-abused flesh “No, I’m not talking to my self”

Melkor wasn’t so easily convinced: he was aware of the unstable mental health of his lover; he had witnessed his sanity slowly fading away and raged against himself for not being able to save him; he had helplessly watched as he muttered to himself “Come here, my lovely” He patted on the still warm spot on the mattress where the Maia had spent the night, safely tucked under his arm.

Suddenly extremely self-conscious about his nudity, Mairon hurried to the bed and immediately covered himself, eyes downcast and a blush quickly blooming on his milky-white cheeks.

Sauron snorted, completely disgusted by such a display of weakness. Had he been in the idiotic fool’s place, he would have hungrily stared at his Master’s naked glory and showed off his body as much as possible, hoping to entice the other into partaking in some vigorous morning sex. Alas! He was bound and gagged, prisoner in his own mind.

Melkor smiled sadly: it seemed that he had been gifted with Mairon’s company that day, but he could still see Sauron’s presence lurking in the background – not that he minded: the Vala didn’t love one of his lover’s personalities more than the other; to him, Mairon’s sweet smiles were as endearing as Sauron’s dark chuckle when he tortured some elves for fun. He wouldn’t have worried so much, if he hadn’t understood how much the Maia worried about the situation, messing himself up even more “Mai” he whispered softly.

Mairon chanced a quick glance upwards and found himself mesmerized by orbs as blue as ice “Mel, have you slept well?”

The Vala leaned in to kiss the slightly furrowed forehead “Yes” He didn’t inquired back about his rest, knowing that his interest would have bothered him: it seemed that Irmo sent some awful nightmares to those with a shattered spirit – just another reason for wanting to destroy the whole lot, really: no one was allowed to hurt his Maia, may be it physically or psychologically.

Mairon’s smile was so wide and warm that it could have melt anyone’s heart “Good”

The Vala hugged him tightly, hiding the flash of hurt distorting his features. Yes, that smile could have easily melted anyone’s heart but not his: Melkor’s simply broke a little more, guilt relentlessly clawing at his lungs and making his breath short. He had ceaselessly pushed Mairon’s boundaries, destroyed and rebuilt him from scratch so many times that, in the end, he had snapped: it was his fault if, every other day, that purity was tainted by a monster he had carefully nurtured ‘till it had gotten out of control and become a separate entity “I love you”

‘I’m sorry’ it was what Melkor meant but the mightiest of the Valar couldn’t so openly apologize, could he? Sauron would have been so disappointed in him, if he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo what is this? I don't really know, I just find intriguing the idea that to the different names stand different personalities and how such a clash of entities would play out *shrugs*  
> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
